Mother and Aunt Bee were going to the train to meet them, and Sally was to take care of the house until they came home again.
‘But I will lock the doors,’ said Mother, ‘so that you won’t have to think of the house. Then, if you grow tired of sitting on the steps, you may go and swing, if you like. But keep yourself clean, Sally,’ said Mother, in a warning voice, ‘keep yourself clean.’
‘I will,’ promised Sally earnestly, ‘I will.’
So Mother and Aunt Bee, who, like Sally, was dressed in a pretty new white frock, rode away in Aunt Bee’s little car, and for a long time, perhaps as much as two minutes, Sally sat still on the steps.
Then she stood up and practiced making a curtsy.
‘This is the way I will do when the ladies come,’ said she.
She sat down again and wished that the door were open, so that she might bring Paulina out to hold on her lap and talk to her for a while.
‘I could tell her about the birthday cake,’ thought Sally. ‘Oh, I wish I could get in the house and bring her out.’
Sally stood up and pulled at the screen door. It was firmly hooked, and the wooden door behind it was locked, Sally knew.
‘The front door is locked, I am sure,’ said she to herself. ‘What shall I do? I know. I will just walk down and look at my pies. I won’t touch them, not even with my little finger, for Mother said to keep clean. But it can’t do any harm to look at the pies, can it? Just to look at them, you know.’